Los Santos Fitness
by TarTarIcing
Summary: A new gym opens in Los Santos after the end of the game's events (post C - Deathwish). Follow the cast's shenanigans through stories based on and highly inspired from Reddit, real life, and 4chan.
1. Franklin and Lamar

"Yo Homie, spot me!" Lamar called out to Franklin.

"Okay, man," Franklin responded as he descended from his pull-up.

Lamar walked over to the bench press seat. He then grabbed two empty barbells, one in each hand. He proceeded to lay down with his arms out. Franklin's eyes widened at what he did next.

"One," Lamar grunted as he brought the barbells together and set them back to the side. The barbells wobbled slightly going up and back.

"Two..." The barbells wobbled a little more. Franklin starts to grimace.

"Three... Fuck, my ribs," The barbells had started wobbling at a worrying pace.

"Four... My ribs, man." The barbells wobbled far enough to hit someone walking by.

Franklin had enough and started to yell, grabbing Lamar's barbells and setting them down. "What the fuck is wrong with you nigga? You gonna endanger these people!"

"Chill, nigga," Lamar replied, confused and unaware.

"What the hell were you trying to do anyway, chest flies? You best be using dumbbells. At least they won't hurt nobody and your ribs. Where the fuck did you learn that shit?"

"I learnt it from the Internet."

"Oh shit," Franklin sighed and put a palm to his forehead. He then pinched the bridge of his nose. He did not expect their first day at this new gym to end up like this.

Hours before...

Franklin turned his TV on, hoping to watch CNT. He was mostly out of the loop on most things TV, so he found himself amused by the commercials and shows he hadn't seen. Chop laid next to him, barking at the dog in the commercial for dog food. He was shushed with a dog treat. Then a commercial that he wouldn't forget had started playing.

"Don't you like to be fat and ugly? Well, at LS Fitness, you can be just ugly!" Pictures of an expansive and well stocked weight room, rows of treadmills and ellipticals, an upstairs track overlooking three sets of basketball courts and three sets of badminton courts, Pilates and yoga classes, boxing rings and punching bags flashed by. Overlaying it was a fat and ugly woman slimming down. "If that doesn't get your fat and lazy ass off the couch, we don't know what will... For $24.99 each month, but we will let you try it for free... For one day!"

Franklin grabbed his phone and dialed Lamar's number. After Lamar answered, he asked, "Dude, remember the construction in the middle of the city? It turned into a gym. Wanna work out with me there?"

Lamar replied, "Hell yeah, that gym looks pretty dope. We could try that one day trial thing."

"See ya there, Homie."

Back to the weight room...

Franklin gave Lamar a pair of dumbbells for chest flies. After a few sets, he put the dumbbells away and gave him an empty barbell with some plates for the bench press.

Not far into Lamar's second set of three plates into his bench press, a scream, a crack, and a crash resonated across the room.

"I feel like playing basketball now," Lamar remarked.

"Me too, Lamar," Franklin remarked.

Please note that most of these chapters are short because I typed most of them out on an iTouch. Most 4chan greentexts can be short as well, and some stories are combined. I'll try to be PC, but there will be some things that will slip due to the nature of the game or the characters.


	2. Trevor, Pilates, and Snap City

Trevor was wandering around the LS Fitness classrooms, not explicitly classrooms, but more like mirrored rooms with padded mats. The point said here was that Trevor wandered in out of curiosity and boredom after seeing the amount of people that went in here. He looked up at each of the signs that hung above the door of each classroom, passing each one that looked boring.

Until that one sign. Trevor did a double take and walked backwards toward it. He turned towards it, tilting his head then tilting back. "The fuck is Pilates?"

He shrugged and walked in.

Once inside he took a mat towards the wall and corner. The class was women, all women with him being the only man. The teacher was a woman too, with blonde hair tied up into a ponytail. Actually, every woman was in tank tops and yoga capris.

And every woman was thin, fit, and at least cute to gorgeous.

Booty booty rocking everywhere!

He could imagine himself banging each and every one until-

"Heel taps everyone!" The teacher chirped.

'What the hell are heel taps?' Trevor thought to himself as he attempted to imitate what the women were doing. It seemed like they were in a permanent sit-up position with the hands out trying to touch their heels with their fingertips. 'Well that chick looks pretty stacked.' He thought to himself as he saw the large-breasted woman in front of him struggling to see.

"Hip bridges!" The teacher chirped the next move and the women followed. They lied on the ground with their knees up and feet down. They then moved their hips upward and then back down. "Squeeze your butt!"

'So hump the air? And yes squeeze your ass; I'm really liking it from back here,' Trevor mentally commented as he copied them and smirked. A scream and a gasp emanated from the women near him. He began to hump at the air harder as more women had started to notice. Some had disgusted grimaced on their faces, some looked away completely, some were uncomfortably gossiping about it to their friends.

"Jumping jacks!" Looking at the back scene, it came out like a bark from the teacher rather than a chirp.

At this point, the women started screaming at Trevor's erection showing through his pants as it bounced around. The teacher sighed and marched over to the back. She definitely had words for his man.

"Sir, your display is offending some of my students," she looked straight into his eyes with her arms crossed, "Perhaps you can show your enthusiasm more appropriately by giving all your effort into our exercises."

"Well, I'm showing my enthusiasm by doing the exercises, m'am," Trevor kept bouncing around, "Don't people's bodies show enthusiasm differently?"

"Well sir, sexual enthusiasm is highly inappropriate in this environment."

"Well how about I really whip it out to show how much I love this class?" The sociopath pulled down the front of his pants and revealed his bare erection, even helicoptering it to prove his point further, "Yeah, yeah, I love this fucking class!"

More women had started screaming and scrambling away from him.

"Get out of my class," the teacher ordered brusquely grabbed his arm and pulled him out.

"Fine then!" Trevor slowly walked out of and away from the door. His erection still hung out, so he tucked it back in. He only faced the classroom once more to flip them off and left the gym entire.

Then just outside the door, he saw five cop cars and armed police. He jumped into his truck and drove quickly and crazily away. Bullets whizzes by and the orders to turn and stop. And so he drove.

And drove.

Drove around in circles.

Until he stopped in the traffic near Del Perro Pier. His phone rang.

"Hey Wade!" Trevor shouted out the window.

"Um, Ron's in the ER," Wade nervously announced.

"Was it the Lost?" Trevor hated the Lost so.

"Um, that's the thing. It's not the Lost, or the O'neils, or the Chinese, he just..."

"Spit it out, Wade!"

"He tried to squat two hundred and twenty-five. He said he could do it... But it seemed so heavy right after just the bar."

"What... The... Fuck!" Trevor did a violent U-turn and caused another car chase.

So after a five star car chase...

Trevor parked inside Mount Zinah and flew out with a chocolate heart box and flowers. He entered the hospital, dashing left and right for Ron after he asked the front desk. He yelled for his name until Wade pipped out of the room and replied.

The sociopath threw the flowers and chocolate at Ron, "And again: What the fuck, Ron? If there's one thing I learned in the Air Force, it's how to lift weights. You don't go gorilla retarded after just the bar."

"I thought I could do it," wept Ron, "I could do it when I was younger so I thought now wouldn't be different despite my age."

"Age is going to mess you up in that department, Ron. Don't be retarded!" Trevor motioned to Wade, "Was he wearing this when he tried to squat?"

"Yup, just like that. It's a miracle he's not dead."

"It's a fucking miracle he isn't because shit like this," Trevor pointed to Ron's shorts and sandals, "In the weight room would get you disciplinary."

"How about when all this blows over, can I sit on that chair thingie at the gym?" Wade tried to break the ice.

"Good idea, Wade," Trevor replied, realizing how tense the situation was.

This one was extremely strange because the main story was based off a joke my brother made. Please don't hurt me.


	3. Yoga Family Fun Day

The De Santa family was lined up in a row with yoga mats, doing yoga. Or at least trying to.

"Why are we in here? With him again?" Michael whispered sharply.

"Fabian got picked up by the gym and is offering a discount to all his private students, especially the former ones. Be grateful he wanted to extend it to the whole family," Amanda sighed.

"Okay, my friends, back to Mountain Pose," Fabian called, "Raise your arms and breathe through your heart space." Everyone followed by standing up and raising their arms.

"This is so weird," Jimmy complained.

"This is stretching, Jimmy," Amanda calmed him.

"Oh my goodness, I am not used to gym class hours," Fabian gasped, "Everyone get into Savasana- Corpse Pose! I have to conduct another class soon! Breathe accordingly and get up when ready!" He laid down, got up, and ran out the door. Some people followed the pose, some people left, some people stood confused.

"I got a text from my friends, so I'm going to head to the volleyball court, mom," Tracey walked away.

"I found something you'll enjoy, Jimmy," Michael and Jimmy walked to the treadmill area, "Have fun napping Amanda!"

"Be safe all of you," Amanda muttered.

"Well I know you don't like treadmills or running, but I think I found something you may like," Michael said.

"I think I don't like any exercise," Jimmy whined.

"I promise you'll like something. Fabian gave us all a membership and I think it's a good place to get exercise and not play video games."

"Well do you think I can get a job here?"

"Maybe. Maybe even more so if you start working out here."

"I guess it's a start." Both stopped at a stationary bike, "Is that what you're gonna show me?"

"Well I thought you'd like it since you liked that bike ride."

"Oh god no! No! No! Fuck no! I don't want to be reminded of that time I burnt at Del Perro!" Jimmy jumped in surprised with his hands in his hair.

"Well at least you won't burn this time, Jimbo," Michael walked near the exit waving his hand, "I'm heading to the weight room."

"Dad! Don't leave me here!" Jimmy yelled, "This is so awkward!"

"It's not so bad." A voice emerged from the side.

"Huh?" Jimmy was confused.

"Stationary bikes aren't bad. In fact they're a great start," The voice came from a tanned young man on a stationary bike, "How about you hop on one and I'll show you how use one?"

"Well, uh, sure," Jimmy sat and shifted onto the stationary bike next to the young man.

"Well first you use your legs..."

Michael found a smith machine in the weight room. He read the instructions and sat down pulling down a bar from the air to his shoulders. He recalls using one of these in high school.

He starts with a light weight and many reps. The burn felt nice as it spread through his arms and shoulders. After a minute or two, he moved to another Smith machine. This smith machine worked his quads, as he extended his legs for another minute. He rotated between the machines, using them for the same amount of time.

Before he was about to cycle through the machines the second time, he felt a tap on the shoulder.

"Hey asswipe!" Trevor roared at Michael. He held a dumbell in one hand.

"What the hell are you doing here, Trevor?" Michael was genuinely confused that the psychopath would be even in a gym. So much so he got up from the machine to deal with this.

"Well I had to take Ron to PT and Wade is in love with that asinine Hawaii Chair so I decided to get memberships for all of us to make it easier."

Wade sat on the Hawaii Chair and laughed childishly as he spun around and around. "This is so fun you guys! I love you spinny chair!" His dreads swung around his face. Everyone was staring at him in disgust due to his Juggalo makeup.

"I am surprised after all this trouble, we even see each other here in the gym," Michael sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Wanna lift, Mikey?"

Franklin and Lamar were shooting hoops at the basketball court. They invited their neighbors for a street game and it was intense. Both men were weaving swiftly in and out between their neighbors. The ball resonated inside the court at each bounce. Their sneakers squeaked at each quick step. Lamar charged towards the basket, blocking one of Franklin's neighbors.

Franklin dribbled the ball towards Lamar. "Get yo crazy ass idiot head out of the way cuz I'm winning this one!" Franklin boasted.

"Not if I block yo yee-yee ass!" Lamar countered, almost slapping the ball out of his friend's hand.

"Don't be cheap man!" Franklin passed the ball to his teammate.

In the court next to them stood Tracey and her webcam friends. They were all giggling and playing volleyball.

"Oh my god, girl, just serve already!" Tracey taunted the opponent server. The server was short and thin with straight black hair. She shyly blubbered in thought.

"Saki is new you moron!" Another girl noted.

"We haven't got all day!"

Saki flipped the ball between her hands. She waited for a bit until she readied her hands and threw the ball up in the air. The server spiked it forward and the ball sailed from her until...

The basketball swiftly passed through Franklin and Lamar's teams. The score between them was still a tie. Trash talking varied far and wide between them but it was still loud enough to here. Brash shoves and blocks continued. Franklin was in the middle of a tense moment as he was deciding who to pass the ball to.

After making his decision, he passed to the right, towards the volleyball court. Unfortunately his teammate missed the ball and it collided with the volleyball.

Tracey ran forward to get the volleyball only to be hit with the basketball. She let out a shriek and fell to the ground. Franklin ran in to help her up.

But when he got to her something inside him changed. Looking in to her eyes, he felt nervous. 'This was Tracey, Michael's daughter,' Franklin thought as he stuttered, attempting to ask her if she was okay.

Instead it came out as, "ARE YOU FUCKING SORRY?" As the adrenaline erupted from his mouth. He covered his mouth as he pulled her up. Tracey stood still wide-eyed as she shook, grimacing.

"What the hell did you say to my daughter?" Michael yelled and marched into the scene, hands balled into fists.

"Look Michael, I'm sorry man!" Franklin stuttered, looking at Michael with his hands up.

"He fucked up big time," Lamar chuckled.

"Don't speak to my daughter like that, F!" Michael went into Franklin's face.

"I was nervous, okay. I'm sorry Tracey," Franklin apologized, defeated.

"I'm fine daddy, I really am. It just stings," Tracey mewled, hiding her face.

"Lemme get you some ice, Trace." Michael took his daughter by the hand and went in the direction of the first aid room, "We're gonna discuss this later, F."

Jimmy was covered in sweat and panting after pedaling on the stationary bike for an hour. The young man finished a little after him, but breathing normally.

"What's your name... Dude?" Jimmy exhaled the last word.

"I really don't like saying my first name unless I'm in company that's capable of pronouncing it, so I'll use my last name. It's Khan. What is yours?"

"My name is Jimmy. Nice to meet you." Both shook hands.

"Glad I can help you, Jimmy."

"Wait, Khan," Jimmy wondered, "You seem familiar... Do you play Righteous Slaughter?"

"Why yes I do. If I'm not at school or here I play it! Do you?"

"Yes! Most of the time. Wait, I think your GenghisKhant! Cuz I recommend that accent before... I love your streams bro!"

"I am GenghisKhant, yes. I'm always glad to meet a fan."

"Dude this day turned from awkward to awesome..."

These may or may not be continuous, depends on how I feel. Feel free to send in any suggestions or criticisms or any /fit/ stories that you want adapted into GTA V terms.


	4. No Curling in the Squat Rack

Chapter 4: No Curling in the Squat Rack

* * *

And so it was decided that Franklin and Lamar got memberships to LS Fitness. In their opinion, LS Fitness outclassed their local gym two to none. It was hella brighter too.

So they took advantage of the perks and put Chop into the dog park. If they had to choose their favorite perk about LS Fitness, it was the weight room. The weight room was so well stocked that it could make a bodybuilding enthusiast weep in joy. Lamar huddled at the Smith Squat rack, curling with both hands upwards and then dropping back down, not locking his elbows. He whistled between reps to the rhythm of ASAP Rocky.

Franklin on the other hand was doing situps on the mat. He was looking at the ceiling and counting mentally. The lights shone into his eyes but he didn't care. After a few minutes of intense ab exercise, he stood up and walked toward the squat rack.

Lamar was too absorbed in his music to notice Franklin's gentle calling.

Annoyed, Franklin pulled off one of Lamar's earbuds, "I'm gonna squat now dude."

"Okay, man," Lamar raised an eyebrow, replying awkwardly. He pulled the weight to the notches and stopped his music.

"Out of all the places you can do your curls, you do it in the squat rack?"

"Yeah, this barbell machine makes that shit easy."

"That's a squat rack, nigga. You don't curl in the squat rack."

"What yee-yee ass rule is that? If it's a barbell, it's a barbell."

"Just because you can curl in the squat rack, doesn't mean you should. It's gym etiquette. Plus this is a big-ass room!"

"Nigga, I like this space."

"Well nigga, this ain't the street gym no more." Lamar shrugged and walked off. Franklin started to use the squat rack.

* * *

"I think the PT lady smiled at me today," Ron hobbled alongside Trevor as he did his round of Physical Therapy. Ron had crutches since his left leg was in a cast while his right leg was in a shin splint.

"I think it's just business, Ron," Trevor groaned, "I think she'd rather fuck the bodybuilders here."

"I still think it's nice when a pretty lady smiles at me."

"The pain meds are still kicking for you?" Trevor asked, "I wish they still worked on me."

"I think I like her," Ron sighed gleefully, "Wait, is that Michael over there?"

Michael was at one of the racquetball courts, flipping his racquet. He wore a headband and off-white shirt and shorts. His shoes were even white.

"Typical Mikey in bourgeois get-up in a bourgeois plaything. How about you watch me kick his fat ass?" Trevor sauntered forward. Ron sat on a bench facing the courts, slumping into the back while laying his crutches on his lap.

Beneath the smirk, Trevor realized that he had no idea what was going on. Racquetball was a game he'd seen before but never played. He went up to the help desk and asked the man about the racquetball court.

"Well sir, you can check out a racket and visit one of the courts. Mind if you use your card so I can get one for you, okay?" The man explained, going into the backroom to procure one. In LS Fitness, every member was given a card to access all the amenities. Luckily for Trevor, he used it to do lines of coke so he kept it around. He slid his card in just in time as the man came back with a racquet. "Thank you sir and have a great day."

Trevor gave a hmph and mused over how sanitized the institution of the gym was. Everything was all smiles and sweat was swept away from the visage of fitness. It was too clean, too well-kept, too organized. He missed the days of the darkness, the dank smells, and the contained chaos.

"Look who came to ruin racquetball?" Michael spat.

"Well, where's Amanda and your fuckups?" Trevor spat likewise.

"Jimmy's on the bike and Amanda and Trace are doing some financial aid shit for college. So this is a man's day?"

"Man's day? More like a pussy's day!" Trevor guffawed.

"Bring it!" Michael served, launching the ball at the wall with his racquet. A resounding boom came out of the ball as it made contact. Trevor readied himself to hit it back at the wall, he guessed. Luckily, he knew how to play tennis so he hit the ball harder. A sharper boom resounded.

Michael acted likewise. So did Trevor. Both ran and readied as they smacked the ball back and forth. Insults flowed out of their mouth like sweat on their foreheads but there was a terse silence that follows before the boom of the ball. Ron leaned forward and watched with intrigue. He recalled playing the sport and realized that none of them scored a point.

...Until now. Michael angled his racquet in a way that the ball would actually go upwards. Trevor tried to anticipate the ball but realized the ball was going higher and further back than he expected. He actually slammed into the wall as the ball hit the glass.

"YES!" Michael shouted, with arms in the air, "A point for me!"

"SHIT!" Trevor cursed as he felt his back against the glass. He wondered how he could play along for this long. Picking up the ball, he was about to make his first serve ever-

"FOAM LOG!" Wade ran across the outside of the courts holding literally a purple Styrofoam roller.

"That is not a toy young man!" Fabian chased behind him, reaching out for it, "Again I hate these gym hours and I'm going to be late." Michael chuckled at the hurried yoga instructor. Wade stopped and looked at Ron.

"SWORD FIGHT!" Wade waved the foam roller at Ron's face. Ron weakly lifted a crutch against it. Wade took it as a sign to knock Ron's glasses off. Ron parried the foam roller with his crutch.

"Nonononono stop it!" Fabian gasped, "This is not a sword for you to play with!" He pulled the foam roller out of Wade's hands and ran. His sprint didn't last long as he didn't see the woman he would bump into. Michael and Trevor actually stopped playing to observe this spectacle.

"How do you feel that Wade caused this shitstorm? Who has the fuckup now?" Michael provided a comeback.

"...Shut up." Trevor growled and crossed his arms.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry m'am!" Fabian blubbered, skittering away.

"You are not sorry, fuckhead! You ruined my WOD!" A muscular woman of an average height and blonde hair tied in a ponytail chased after him, screeching. The men in the racquetball court recognized her: Mary-Ann Quinn. This was going to be good.

* * *

A/N: This is somewhat longer because I typed it on the computer. True story, I never used the racquetball court at my school gym. Trevor's actually doing a better job than I would be.


	5. The Rich Man's Treadmill

Chapter 5: The Rich Man's Treadmill

* * *

A/N: Forgive me for being away for a while, I had to focus more on my art and drawings and other household stuff. This time the stories come from College Humor and Tumblr. So please enjoy!

* * *

Mary-Ann followed Fabian into the yoga room, fists clenched. Fabian meekly entered and set down his mat, apologizing for any lateness to his students.

"We understand," an old lady brayed emphatically, "These gym hours are not good for the flow."

"He-here's your mat, lady," the instructor pointed to an empty yoga mat. Mary-Ann stood on it, arms crossed.

"They are absolutely not," Fabian agreed, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new student, her name is..." He motioned towards the triathlete.

" _My name is Mary-Ann_ ," she introduced curtly. The class turned to her; some saying hello, some nodding at her, and some waving.

"Let's start in Mountain Pose," Fabian clapped his hands and stood. The rest did the same. Mary-Ann shrugged her shoulders.

"Breathe in," Fabian continued, closing his eyes." The class followed him. She inhaled loudly, making some people open their eyes and stare at her.

"Please breathe softly," he admonished, "Then exhale through your nose." Mary-Ann's exhalation was of a high whistling noise.

" _Softly_ , Mary-Ann," he repeated, "Then proceed to Forward Fold, with hands on the ground." The crown of her head almost hit the mat over how boring this yoga was being.

"Proceed to a plank." Fabian held a push-up position with arms locked.

 _'Finally, something challenging!'_ The woman mentally sighed of relief as she held her plank, despite seeing some people moving down, 'Pathetic worms can't hold a plank.'

"We are moving into Chataranga position," he reminded her and told the class.

"Sorry, I do Crossfit," Mary-Ann proudly replied.

"I see," he pushed down, locking his elbows to his ribs. From the corner of his eye, he saw the woman doing push-ups in the same arm position, fervently.

"I like the cut of your jibe, modified push-ups!" Mary-Ann growled, locking her elbows into her ribs as she descended.

"We hold the position, m'am," Fabian grimaced.

"Slow burn, I got you! Nothing says Crossfit like a slow burn!" She held the push-up position as close as possible to the ground.

"Yes, kind of. Th-that's how yoga works. We're getting into Downward Dog." The class followed, bending over at a right angle, with hands and feet on the ground. Mary-Ann lifted her right foot in the air, circling it.

"Don't do that." He quipped.

"Sorry, I do Crossfit," she replied. She circled her left foot as she put her right one down. A student behind her leapt back.

The class ran smoothly from then on until...

* * *

"We continue with Warrior One pose," Fabian exhaled, doing the pose.

For some reason, something woke up inside Mary-Ann Quinn. Her eyes snapped wide open as she bent further on her forward knee. She started yelling, " **Warriors up! Warriors up**!" while flapping her arms.

Trevor and Michael called it quits with their racquetball game and watched from outside of the yoga class.

"This is like watching a car crash in slow motion," Michael sighed.

"Because it's like watching someone you love get fucked?" Trevor hit a nerve.

"No, because everyone is going to get fucked here," Michael replied acerbically.

"Let's see."

With the class in some alarm, Fabian decided to take back control with some twists. The was a minute-long lull until a bone popped.

"Take it to the limit! Eat like a caveman! Train like a Navy Seal! Injure yourself!" Mary-Ann barked as she over-extended her twist.

"Stop! Relax!" Fabian gasped, running over the straighten the woman out. As he put a hand on her stomach, she hacked up some pills.

"Fish oil pills, I do Crossfit!"

"How to you live like this?" Fabian screamed and ran back, "This Crossfit you speak of is not healthy at all!"

"Crossfit is the healthiest cult...ure!" The woman retorted as she twisted herself to the other side.

"See? Cults are unhealthy! You need yoga!" Fabian shuddered as he led the next twist. He shuddered even more to find her puking blood, "You need a hospital!"

"I need to finish this class!" She coughed as the students scrambled and screamed. The old lady fainted, "After 24 hours of not eating and today's WoD, I'm going to treat myself to a Paleo taco!"

"Nononononononono..." Fabian tittered in fear as he snook up to the telephone and dialed 9-1-1.

"That was not a car accident, that was a train wreck!" Trevor commented on the scene.

"I almost pity Fabian," Michael snorted.

"I see you're still mad about the incident."

"Fellows, please!" A voice called from behind.

"Who the hell?" Trevor called back.

Dave Norton stepped forward, wearing a tennis uniform and a gaudy sweatband.

"Dave?" Michael asked, surprised.

"Yes, Michael and Trevor, it's me," Dave replied, wiping his shirt, "Turns out Devin, or more likely we, have left a little something for you two."

"Devin? Leaving something? You're bullshitting me," Trevor spat in disbelief.

"Well he didn't specify, but we decided to bring his equipment over here. Think of it as a charity case," Dave dangled a single key.

"You fantastic bastard," Michael chuckled, "Didn't think you FIB had it in you to do charitable repo!"

"Ah Franklin, didn't mean to see you here, we have something for you three!"

"Is it cardio? I need the cardio!" Franklin walked by.

"Yo F!" Michael greeted.

"Hey my n-word!" Trevor shouted.

"Well nice to see you again!" Franklin replied, "Trevor just stop."

Dave looked at the trio and said, "Now that all three of you are here, come follow me." The four went down a hidden walkway with dim lighting and dark carpet.

"Lester told me something about a dark pathway but not like this," Michael commented.

"Tell me this is fight club! This is fight club, right?" Trevor piped up, hands clenched in excitement.

"Is this even legal?" Franklin wondered.

"Well we partnered with this gym to provide an excellent training ground for fellow FIB agents. As a thanks for your troubles, we offer you this," Dave took out the key and stopped at a gold door. He put the key into the lock and turned. Opening the door, he led the three with his hand.

* * *

Inside the door was a complete gym with the most modern of equipment: the most advanced treadmill, a stairclimber, a chrome elliptical, a shiny dumbell set complete with a rack full of barbells, and a foam pit and a foam mat. The criminal trio stared in awe at the room.

"As you all are aware, Devin was a fitness enthusiast. I hope you enjoy this room as much as he did. Michael, I'll award you the key once you leave. Have fun, all of you." Dave left, softly closing the door behind him.

"Typical Devin. Of course I shouldn't have thought of fight club..." Trevor groaned.

"This place is beautiful," Franklin smiled, "That cross trainer is nice. I'll take it." He went on the machine and started quick mode.

"I get the key, so I get Devin's treadmill," Michael strutted his way on the treadmill, playfully shoving Trevor to the side. He input a slow speed and started to walk.

"Fine, I'll use one of these doohickeys," Trevor groaned as he used the crosstrainer next to Franklin, "I really wanted a Fight Club."

Michael started to increase the speed.

 _'Five point zero miles per hour_.' The digital assistant chimed.

"Unlucky for you, Devin is the opposite of a nihilistic fuck!" The man jogged, panting in reply.

"Well the FIB can fight anywhere they want!" Trevor yelled back, swinging wildly on the crosstrainer.

 _'Eight point miles per hour, I suggest you slow down at this time._ ' The digital assistant remarked.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Michael exhaled dismissively.

"Was that to me or Devin's fancy secretary treadmill?" Trevor barked.

"Can't you guys slow down? We're here to exercise demons not fight them," Franklin remarked as he went on a brisk pace on his crosstrainer, "It's not a race."

"NO!" Trevor swung out even more.

"NO!" Michael screamed, inputting the speed to ten miles per hour.

 _'Ten miles per hour. HIIT mode starting._ ' The digital assistant flashed a three minute countdown. Michael held the rail as his legs flailed on the track. His knuckles turned white as his gritted teeth as he held on for dear life.

"Oh shit, what the hell is HIIT mode? What is this? Oh shit, my heart!" Michael screamed even more as he struggled to stay on the machine. "Oh fuck!" His feet started to slip, "Oh god!" Then his hand, "Oh sweet mercy!"

"I know how Wade feels!" Trevor swung even more intensely than imagined.

"Oh god, oh nononononono..." Michael lost his grip on the rail, causing him to fly backwards off Devin's treadmill. The sheer force of the machine and his weight combined caused him to fly inside the foam pit. The foam blocks insulated his endless stream of cursing.

Trevor then began to cackle at the site. Little did he know that he lost his grip on the handlebars of the crosstrainer and fell forward.

Face first into the ground. His cackling was still heard.

Looking at the situation and knowing these two, it shouldn't have been funny. But to Franklin it was. His core started to seize from holding in the laughter, then his chest, then his arms, and then his mouth. He used one hand to hide the smile and the other to hold on his crosstrainer.

The futility of this action was like holding the LSPD back from a bank robbery. Not unlike a quick time event, Franklin turned off the crosstrainer, got off, and sat on th floor. The hand once covering his mouth was on the floor. He started a full belly laugh that echoed across the room as his other hand held his core. A series of "oh god's" and "oh god why's" interspersed with his laughs. Some laughs started out with some wheezes as time went on. Tears even started to stream down his face.

Michael had started to laugh, but in a more delirious sense as the adrenaline started to register in his brain as he felt the foam blocks between his fingers. "I think the treadmill's haunted."

"Gee, ya think?" Trevor lifted his chest to laugh back before he flopped forward.

* * *

The crashes inside the room brought Dave Norton back to face the room from the outside. Dave's eyes opened wide with horror.

"I should have given the key to someone else..."

* * *

Again, I apologize for the delay!


	6. Michael Tries Protein Powder

Chapter 6: Michael Tries Protein Powder

* * *

Summary: Michael makes a change. Franklin needs help with financial aid.

* * *

In the aftermath of the shenanigans inside the late Devin's room, Michael had to face the glaring realization that he always knew in passing.

 _He was out of shape. Very out of shape._

It was eons ago that he was a football star in high school back in the Midwest. He remembers being still active back in Ludendorff. Now in Los Santos, he had a gut and is now somewhat chunky. Even with his face on the ground, Trevor still gave him shit for it. It was true, they were both middle-age and their bodies weren't going to get better.

He had to make a change. A healthy one.

Luckily, Dave had an idea and guided him to Grain of Truth. There was only one word on the list: Protein powder. He said it would help with muscle growth.

After fumbling through the bulk aisles and awkward encounters with the workers, Michael came out with a bag of protein powder, or in other words whey powder. It looked like a softer version of cocaine, but it was certainly not that kind of substance. The plastic bag helped nothing.

He sat down in his car, disgusted by the attitudes of both the shoppers and workers despite sharing a similar yearly income. He swore to never come back to that grocery store and instead go to Bulkco.

Arriving back home, Michael greeted his family.

"Hello everyone! I'm going to make a change… I'm going to be healthy!" He set the plastic bag down on the kitchen counter.

"I highly appreciate the choice, honey, but…" Amanda stammered, "Isn't that a little unnatural?"

"It's all natural, baby! One hundred percent organic whey powder from Grain of Truth!" He boasted, poking the bag, "Wanna try it?"

"I still don't believe in putting unnatural things in my body, Michael. I'm sorry," Amanda sighed, "I have to go to Book Club anyway. See you in a bit." She gave a peck on Michael's cheek and went on her merry way.

"Wanna try some protein powder, Jimmy?" The man held the bag up.

"My friend says I shouldn't even touch the stuff until I'm thinner! Also I think it tastes like crap!" Jimmy answered, putting on his Cluckin' Bell uniform and walking out. The father just shrugged and thought to himself, ' _Smart man, I'm glad he's made a smart friend._ '

"Hey Trace, wanna try some protein powder?" He asked his daughter.

"Ew, I don't wanna get bulky!" Tracey grimaced and shook her head, "But thanks for giving me my own room for orientation!" She waved goodbye as she moved her bags into her car, going off to her orientation for University of Los Santos.

"Have fun, Trace!" Michael called in reply. He was now alone with his bag of protein powder. Oh well, more for him! He began to get some water and a protein shake bottle, which was strangely a present from Lester. With two scoops inside the bottle and plenty of water, he shook the bottle until everything looked like it was well blended.

The man put the bottle in the cooler and brought it with him to LS Fitness. He did a simple routine of jogging a mile and lifting some weights.

Wiping the set of his brow, he returned to his car and opened the cooler. He took his first sip of the protein shake. At first the initial coolness of the drink was refreshing, but then there was a strange aftertaste. Which only grew stronger as he drank more. Until he finished the whole thing.

"Damn I must have been thirsty… or hungry," Michael said in surprise as he got into his car and drove out of the parking lot. He decided to cool down by driving around downtown Los Santos.

It was refreshing on multiple levels, with a cool drink in his belly and the cool wind whipping around his face.

Until…

* * *

He felt a rumbling in his stomach, which he figured as normal.

Then the rumbles became more frequent, even containing noise.

He felt an overall pressure in his stomach. Michael thought he needed to fart. It was now more than a rumble; it was a sensation eating his bowels alive. His hands tightened on the wheel as his turns became more wild. He bit his upper lip and his whole posture became entirely stiff.

He realized that this was not a fart, that it was a shit. He needed to go number two.

Analyzing all the possible stores, he had to think of the ones which had a bathroom. Unfortunately, he passed by nothing but restaurants. It was restaurant after restaurant lined with a tennis court in between.

Those were terrible options.

A miracle then arrived in the form of a T-Shirts XXS – XXXL. Not even bothering to parallel park properly, Michael jumped out of his car and into the store. He had to shove some clothes out of the way to get to the bathroom.

Sprinting to the stall, he let go once his backside hit the toilet seat. Rancid rumbling resonated through the bathroom walls. Michael put a hand on the wall, curling his fingers as he violently emptied his bowels. He whispered, "Yup" every few times. This was a pain he never felt before, a fire that he never meant to release. He cursed Dave Norton's name as he eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

After the aftershocks have elapsed, he wiped himself thoroughly and wiped the sweat off his brow. He washed his hands and triumphantly came out of the bathroom.

He was surrounded by a group of shocked women waiting outside.

* * *

Franklin, too decided to make a change in his life. He realized he could go to college to complete his GED. He found a community college with an online program and told Lester about it. Although with enough googling, he could figure out most of the forms. Unfortunately, there was some parts he couldn't understand and needed Lester to help him.

Lamar followed suit, but found another college, the Institute of Icarus.

Today they were going to meet Lester at LS Fitness pool. It made sense because today was a hot day.

The black men emerged from the locker room, thinking they had time to spare before meeting Lester. After all, it was only an hour before they should meet.

However, they didn't expect to see Lester in the shallow end of the pool.

"You? Swim?" Franklin gasped, eyes wide.

Lamar's reaction wasn't as kind. He began to point and bellow.

"Look, man. Point, gawk, and scream as much as you want, but I have been ordered by my doctor to do this aqua aerobics class," Lester replied in exasperation. He was wearing an old style swim suit with green horizontal stripes. The singlet was not kind on anyone's eyes.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Thornhill!" Trevor leapt on the edge, only wearing a leopard speedo. He waved to the couple who was also doing aqua aerobics with the weights. Lamar bellowed even louder.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Franklin eyed Trevor, trying to not look at the speedo.

"The classic!" Trevor thrusted his hips forward.

"I don't want to share a lane with you!" Franklin grabbed Lamar to a deeper lane, disgusted by both of his friends.

"We can tri-lane this!" All three swam in separate lanes despite the psychopath's persistence.

* * *

 _An hour later…._

Franklin, Lamar, and Lester were all dry and at the Little Tea Pot. The former two had laptops on while Lester was analyzing their forms.

"I'm sorry for screaming at you, Lester. I was tripping balls," Lamar apologized, scratching his head.

"Your dumb ass shouldn't have done shrooms before we went out," Franklin admonished.

"At least I swam it out," Lamar made a comeback.

"Enough you two. Apology accepted," Lester cut them both, "I really have to read into both of your forms because both of you are special cases. Financial aid may be sketchy for you." He sat up with his cane to look at both screens. "So far so good, it's a miracle you guys know your SSN's."

"Denise gave me mine," Franklin credited his aunt.

"I found mine in my closet," Lamar replied.

"A thing about Institute of Icarus, Lamar… It's a for-profit school, meaning that it runs on mostly student costs and not government funding."

"It's a good thing, right?" Lamar piped up.

"It's not, Lamar," Lester corrected, "It's crap. Your courses will cost four times as more as Franklin's. I know it may be annoying, but I'm going to ask you to scrap that form and instead sign up for Franklin's college."

"I have to fill out shit again and start over?" Lamar groaned, hands to his forehead.

"I know, but luckily college forms are usually the same throughout," Lester's best attempt at comforting a frustrated man, "Actually let me help you."

And so the younger men submitted their forms.

* * *

I'm sorry for creating such a disgusting and mundane chapter, but the 4chan story behind the first part was a great lesson in the use of protein powder.


	7. Comforts of the Iron Temple

Chapter 7: The Comforts of the Iron Temple

* * *

Summary: Someone familiar comes to Los Santos. Jimmy makes progress.

* * *

Meanwhile, at Liberty City...

Despite the events of Kate's death, Niko Bellic has managed to live well. Roman restarted his cab business while Mallorie did the books. They even managed to have a daughter despite all that. Niko became a driver out of familial obligation.

Having empathy with Niko, Roman used a good amount of his first paycheck to get him a dog. A brown, white, and black Serbian hound. A female to carry Niko's mother's namesake: Milla. Milla was a joy to not only Niko, but to the whole family and the cast of his friends. Even Roman and Mallorie's daughter Erica got along with the dog. Milla even occasionally rode with Niko at work.

Unfortunately, something was wrong with Milla. She couldn't walk or run as she used to. Jumping was something she now feared. She could only stand on occasion. Fearing for the worst, Niko took Milla to a vet.

"I'm sorry, Niko, but Milla has bone cancer," Dr. Finch announced, petting a prone Milla, "Luckily it's in an early stage but unfortunately with your 'insurance' we cannot operate on her."

"What do I do then?" Niko raised his voice, then lowered it looking at his dog.

"I know a veterinary hospital unfortunately in Los Santos that can deal with your 'insurance'. I will write a referral to them now, most probably they will give you an appointment within a day." Dr. Finch gave Niko a note. Niko grabbed Milla and left.

* * *

"You're going to Los Santos?" Roman asked, shocked.

"I have to, for Milla. The vet told me only they can do it," Niko replied, "I'll go there by myself to make it easier."

"Isn't Los Santos dangerous?" Mallorie gasped.

"It was, but since some major shootouts it began to become very quiet," Niko assured. Erica started to sit and gently pet Milla.

"Erica, Milla may be very tired," Mallorie warned.

"I'm just doing my normal thing, mommy. Why does Milla have to go so far, Uncle Niko?" Erica asked.

"Well Milla is a special kind of sick. So she has to go to a special doctor. The special doctor is very far but he will make her run and jump again," Niko said, tapping his niece's nose, earning a giggle.

So everyone Niko knew gathered around him as he and Milla departed to Los Santos from the International airport. Little Jacob even stopped smoking for bit to see Milla off. Brucie gave her a bone. Elizabetha gave Niko some Avon soap.

"Be well, Milla," Niko said to his dog, putting her on the pet luggage carousel.

* * *

Landing in Los Santos, Niko used part of his pay (thankfully Roman's business merged with Hitchr so he had a higher pay than ever) to get himself a dog-friendly hotel near the veterinary hospital. Both slept soundly that night.

In the following morning, he entered the hospital, holding Milla in his arms. He slipped the referral to the receptionist and was immediately escorted to the surgery bay.

"Niko, we're going to give Milla metal splints and chemotherapy. It's a miracle you called in when you did. We're going to give her some anesthesia," The surgeon, Dr. Fish, explained to the Serbian as he held Milla on the table, "We promise to get Milla back in running condition!"

"It's okay, Milla," Niko cooed to his whimpering pet, "They're going to take care of you." He gave a long tender pat to her head and stroked her muzzle.

"Niko, you have to leave now. We're starting the procedure," Dr. Fish announced, "It should be four hours at the most. We will send updates and major developments to your phone."

Niko walked out of the door, looked in the window, and walked out. He needed to clear his head before he imploded of stress.

* * *

Within months of being friends with Khan, Jimmy ended up losing weight. Maybe it was the endless gaming sessions, or the meatless entrees he had to eat at every visit, or the biking sessions, or even the brutal forum trolling they enjoyed. Jimmy no longer sported a gut and was incredibly bored of Cluckin' Bell's food. He now had some visible muscle and thought he can make it to working at LS Fitness.

And he did. Both Michael and Amanda were proud of him for making his way up into the world in more ways than one. In return, they trusted him more and let him do more things outside. Jimmy was now a desk agent and gym cleaner who was going to end his first week there.

He had a big grin as he used the mirror to adjust his polo, slacks, and name tag. Spinning the keys in his hand and whistling, he went to his car and drove off.

Arriving there, he clocked in for the afternoon shift. He moved to the front desk to scan people's cards and let them in.

What he didn't expect was an emotionally afflicted six-three giant with arms like tree trunks slam his hands on the desk. For some reason he looks familiar despite the scary display.

"Wh-what can I do fo-for you, s-sir?" Jimmy stammered, gripping the mouse and keyboard for dear life. His eyes shifted across the room. For the first time, he was sweating in the gym without a workout.

"May I have the two-day trial?" The man requested. Jimmy was aware of the multiple promotions that the gym would run to attract more people, and it was working because he never scanned anyone new twice.

"You look familiar, sir," Jimmy said, twisting the monitor, mouse, and keyboard to the man, "Please fill out these forms." The man did it promptly, filling out his information and twisting the set-up back to the young man when he was done.

"Niko... Bellic? Niko...!" Jimmy's eyes were wide open like saucers as he scanned the forms for completion. "I think we're friends on Life Invader. I'm Jimmy De Santa if you remember." He reached his hand to shake the older man's.

"Jimmy De Santa. I'm glad to finally meet you," Niko said, shaking hands, "What a coincidence!" Niko finally made a small smile since hours ago.

"What's up? How come you're here and not in Liberty City?" Jimmy asked in sheer curiosity.

"My dog, Milla. You know, I post pictures of her. She got sick, so I have to fly here to get her treatment. I need something to keep my mind off of that," Niko replied nervously, scratching his head.

"Right, she got cancer. I hope she makes it. I hope this gym is a comfort to you as it is for another friend."

"I highly thank you, Jimmy!" Niko made his way to the weight room.

* * *

Niko stripped to his undershirt and jammed his jacket and shirt inside a locker. He went over to the bench press seat and did a few sets. After that, he went over to the other spots and did a few more sets over there.

To know that he was lifting nothing less than a hundred pounds put a determined smile on his face. He knew if he can fight on, Milla could too. After feeling all his major muscles burn, he began to run laps around the track.

After a little more than three miles, he spotted a stocky blonde man on a lat-pull down bar. This man had a peculiar face, as he didn't look like any of the rich snobs who frequented here. Perhaps he was not around here?

Niko began to slow to walk to look at the man. The closer he got, the more he realized he could be a local. His clothes were of surprising top brands but his face was something he rarely saw.

This man had Down syndrome. People of that condition were terribly dressed back on Liberty City. The man looked back at Niko and simply blared, "I'm getting strong!"

"I see," Niko commented, looking at the weights he lifted. That had to be at least 45 pounds, maybe for a warm up, "Strong is good." The man started pulling rather fervently.

"Stronger!" The man yelled. Niko guessed he wanted more weight, so he put weights on the bar, like five pound plates. He kept going.

" _Stronger_!" The man repeated. Niko put fifteen pound plates on the bar. He still kept going.

" **Stronger**!" Niko put twenty pound plates. He showed no signs of stopping.

" _ **Stronger**_!" He put twenty-five pound plates. He started to slow down a bit. Niko looked at him in concern.

"I feel like you should slow down. Don't hurt yourself," Niko advised.

"I'm getting stronger!" The man yelled, pulling the bar.

"Fred, we have to go back!" A gym teacher in a ratty white shirt and red basketball shorts called, "I'm glad you helped him lift weights." He turned to Niko as he motioned the Down Syndrome man to leave.

"He looked like he was having a blast lifting," Niko replied, "So I put weights and he liked it."

"He's a special guy, so we sent him here so he doesn't scare the normal students. Have a nice day, kind sir." The gym teacher and the man walked towards the exit.

"BYE!" The man yelled. Niko awkwardly waved goodbye.

As soon the two left, Niko's phone started to ring. He looked at it and saw he received a message.

 _The surgery is a success! Milla should be cancer-free within two weeks! :)_

* * *

I have no idea whether or not I should continue this unless I can find new stories I can spin, although I do have one loose end I have to resolve before I can call this done. I hope you enjoy this brain bleach chapter!


	8. Final Lift-Off

LS Fitness 8: Final Lift-off

* * *

Summary: Ron makes a breakthrough. Michael and Trevor play tennis. Franklin and Lamar try the community college gym.

* * *

It was in the early morning where Trevor and Ron were driving. The sun shone brightly at their faces. Trevor tried to make shade for his eyes while Ron looked forward. Ron had sunglasses while Trevor didn't so it was expected. Underneath the sunglasses was a stare and a glint of determination in Ron's eyes.

Today was the day.

Over the course of a few months, Ron had struggled with PT. For the first two months, he had crutches, hobbling through exercises and falling. There were moments where he cried in frustration and Trevor laughed at him once. Channeling that humiliation into anger, he hit him back with the crutches. There was simply too much pain to deal with such mockery.

In that moment, he realized he only needed one to stand. Using his free crutch, he tapped Trevor on the head, telling him to stop. Instead, Trevor grabbed the crutch and threw it outside of his trailer.

At the gym next day, Ron transferred to a cane. He turned that anger into determination as he slowly but surely completed his PT exercises. Sometimes he cooled down when he accidentally hit Wade with it. Wade usually sat on the floor playing with one of the many broken ab wheels, attempting to spin it like a top. Wade often apologized for being in the way, but Ron told him there was no need. Ron had started to become faster when moving, with his feet shuffling less and less and the amount of pain falling. Or at least the feeling of pain. At times he would attempt to stand and walk to the bathroom at night without the cane.

Last night, he managed to make it to the door before slipping and spinning himself to the toilet. Other nights he would fall at the door and hold the knob for dear life. Earlier he would just hit the credenza.

Today was the day he would prove the PT that he can walk without a cane. That he can be normal again.

* * *

"Remember to stay calm, Ron," Trevor held Ron's shoulder, "I don't want a TPE employee to burn himself out trying to walk."

"Gotcha Trevor," Ron replied, slowly pulling Trevor's hand off him. Ron pulled himself toward the PT room. Trevor shrugged his shoulders and headed to the locker room.

Driving Ron to PT wasn't the only reason Trevor went to LS Fitness. He was also invited by Michael to play tennis.

To settle the score from that racquetball game, and Trevor was game. He changed into his ProLaps tennis outfit and walked to the tennis courts. The tennis courts were placed outside, nearer to the parking lot than the pool. Michael waved to him from one of the further courts. The psychopath jogged over.

"I'm kicking your ass, Mikey!" Trevor boasted, beating his breast with one hand.

"Not if I fuck you up, T!" Michael retorted. Michael started the game by serving first. Trevor hit the ball back to him.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk. The ball went back and forth between the two white men.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Plunk! Trevor hit a high serve and the tennis ball became lodged in the chain fence.

"It's now love-love! Get the ball, idiot!" Michael groaned.

"Fiiiiiine…" Trevor pulled the ball out and served low. The game continued as normal.

* * *

"You are doing a good job today, Ronald," The PT woman complimented as Ron completed his bar walk in record time.

"Thank you," Ron beamed, "I want to do my best for my last day."

"The head will decide, but I'm rooting for you. You've done these exercises very quickly."

"I'll convince him," Ron replied as he repeated the bar walk in the other direction.

* * *

The score was forty-five to forty-five and both men were still intensely playing. The ball had not touched the ground and flow between their rackets. The bounces of the ball resounded from the court. People from the other courts stopped playing to look at them.

Michael and Trevor grunted in frustration as they stared at each other and the ball.

This intense match was something to watch.

* * *

Ron started walking without a cane. He didn't wobble, shuffle his feet, or fall. He walked in circles. He walked back and forth. He walked backwards and forwards.

"Okay, Ronald," The PT director sighed, "I get it. You can walk without your cane."

"Can I go now?" Ron asked with a hint of irritation, tapping his foot on the ground.

"Look, please sign these papers. Although you have built up the strength to continue walking, I recommend being careful because bone still needs time to grow. Any pressure on a gap can cause mini-fractures and falls."

"Thank you so much!" Ron cheered and high-fived the PT lady. He sat down and filled out the papers.

* * *

The score was still forty-five to forty-five and the men showed no signs of stopping. Even Jimmy used his break to watch his father.

"Dad…? Uncle T…?" Jimmy whispered under his breath while seeing the closest men in life play tennis against each other, "I'm not sure who to cheer for."

A tennis player in front of him said, "I'm betting some money on the stocky guy."

A tennis player on the right of Jimmy said, "My money's on the skinny dude!"

A gaggle of tennis players started betting on who would win. Jimmy stood appalled.

* * *

Ron skipped across the gym, yelling things like, "I'm free!", "Praise the Lord!", "Woohoo!" and "Drinks on me!" He even did a victory lap on the track despite only wearing a polo and sandals. The runners looked confused as he dashed by.

He skipped to the racquetball courts, to the badminton courts, to the pool deck, to the front desk, and then to the weight room. In there, he did a victory squat using the bar and ran away. He wanted to find Trevor and tell him the good news.

And luckily he knew where Trevor was.

* * *

Jimmy, knowing his break was up, slipped away from the crowd while being somewhat disgusted by people asking him to bet. The crowd got bigger despite the score being the same.

He had to tell the rest of the family!

About to reach the door, he got knocked down to the walkway and got even more surprised.

He was looking up at a happy Ron, a friend of Trevor's if he recalled. A happy Ron that was running, jumping, skipping, and cheering. He reverted back to his old self by laying there.

"Trevor! _Trevor_! **Trevor**! I can walk! I can walk _without a cane_!" Ron hollered as he pushed past the crowd to see Trevor up front.

However, the tennis players he shoved were not very kind. One tennis player shoved him to the ground while the other pulled him up by the shirt and called him a bitch.

"Oh goodness, please don't hurt me. I'm sorry for shoving you, these are my friends!" Ron whimpered.

At the sound of Ron's whimper, Trevor caught Michael's pass with his hand and dropped his racket. He turned to the crowd, roaring, "Another finger on him and you're dead, you son of a bitch!" His glared spelt death to the person holding Ron.

"So you're his friend, huh?" The tennis player let Ron slip to the ground, "Tell me what, you should keep playing because I doubt you can lay a fist on me." He flexed his bicep. It was rather large. Michael dropped his racket, cracked his knuckles, and followed Trevor out of the court. Trevor dashed towards the man, slamming the ball towards the collarbone of the tennis player with a scream.

"Do you like hurting cripples that just turned normal? Do you?" Trevor asked vehemently as he slammed the ball on his arms, "What kind of person are you?" He pummeled the player with his fists.

"I'm okay, Michael," Ron whispered sorely, "I'm sorry for all of this." Michael helped Ron to his feet and held his elbow.

"Don't blame yourself," Michael replied as he let go of Ron and provided some help for Trevor as other tennis players jumped in on the riot. Help meaning more punches and kicks to sensitive areas.

* * *

Franklin and Lamar had started their GED training at the local community college. After doing their science course for the day, they decided to check out the community college. Despite the peeling paint and dusty floors, the place looked decent in south Los Santos standards. The portables at least looked clean and the testing center was a soundproof and clean area.

Thinking of the hour they had to spare, they decided to visit the gym.

The gym was in no means an equivalent to LS Fitness, but it did its job. It had weights, cardio machines, a pool, and two tennis courts. They decided to stay in the weight room.

It was leg day and they were doing deadlifts.

"You wanna know how I make it through my deadlifts?" Lamar asked.

"What?" Franklin replied.

"I think Los Santos had a huge earthquake, and there's all that rubble and shit. And underneath all the rubble and shit is a small kid. That kid is crying for his mommy or something. So I wanna play all superhero-like and lift that rubble and save that kid. It's genius if I say so myself!" He did a deadlift.

"What? So you lift the rubble off the kid and set it down back on him and repeat that five times? Shit, you killed the kid!" Franklin spat, confused.

"It was a better idea on paper…"

* * *

The fight between Michael and Trevor and the tennis players escalated into a riot. Without guns or other weapons, Michael and Trevor did rather well with their fists and feet. With a voicemail from Lester, they found out one of the tennis players was a Merrywether ex-pat.

Looking out from the window, Jimmy bit into his nails as he called 911. He meekly called the LSPD. He feared for both his father's and uncle's methods and wanted professional intervention.

Ron stood as far from possible from the riot, not just for the sake of his health, but because he generally disliked violence. A cop brushed past him. "Oh no…" he gasped. More cops followed to the scene.

"Holy shit! It's the police!" Michael yelled as he punched someone in the chin.

"We got this!" Trevor yelled back, "Why are they here?"

"This is the Los Santos Police!" The cop yelled through the megaphone, "Please stop the escalation. Stop and put your hands up!"

"We didn't start this!" Michael and Trevor said at the same time. The first tennis player slipped away from the crowd and into his car, a Blista.

"Step away from the tennis court!" The cop called.

"There is an ex-Merrywether amongst us. He started the riot. We only defended ourselves," Michael protested.

"…And that idiot got away!" Trevor protested more as he grabbed Michael and the cop and hijacked a police car. The cops chased after them, driving behind them.

"I know you guys don't like it when people like us get in the way of your mission, which is to say, arrest the ex-Merrywether, but trust us… We've faced them before and normal standard operating procedure will not fly!" The psychopath explained as he was blazing across the street to find the tennis player.

"How did you know that?" The cop gasped, incredulous.

"I have an inside source telling me that one of the guys was ex-Merrywether and is most likely on a personal vendetta against us," Michael added, "You got him in your sights, right?"

"I just had him!" Trevor exploded. The tennis player turned behind a building. He turned wildly.

It escalated into a five-star car chase.

* * *

Enough cop cars cornered the Blista in front of Vespucci University. The first cop came out of the car with a megaphone announcing, "Get out of the vehicle and put your hands up!" The other cops followed by drawing out their weapons.

The tennis player did so, holding his hands where everyone could see them.

"You are under arrest!" The cop yelled. A phalanx of cops tackled him down and cuffed him. They then shoved him in the back of a police car and kept watch.

"That's rather violent…" Michael said.

"I told them to," Trevor said, "The Merrywether are a bunch of shits that deserve no mercy." That particular police car drove away.

"I thank you despite having unconventional methods," the cop said, slapping both men on the back.

"A kick to Merrywether is a kick for good," Michael quoted.

"You know what I realized, Mikey," Trevor sighed, "Maybe the heaviest weights we lift aren't the weights we lift at the gym, but it's our feelings." The sunset shone on all of Los Santos as the cops scattered.

* * *

I'm going to call it quits here because I can't drag this out any further. I hope this ending isn't too anticlimactic. There are /fit/ stories that I can use, but I feel they go against the flow of the story. I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed making it!


End file.
